Connections
by B.A. Tyler
Summary: Many years after the war, a grown-up Erin Hunnicutt gives Hawkeye a call on Veterans Day.


**Connections**

_(Author's Note: Inspired by the episode "Where There's a Will, There's a War.")_

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_November 11, 1980__  
_  
"Hello?"

"Hi, Hawkeye," Erin says, smiling. She pictures him 3000 miles away, his own face breaking into a smile as he hears her voice. Maybe he has a beer in his hand, maybe he's plopping onto the couch and putting his feet up as he settles in for a chat. "How is one of my favorite veterans doing on this Veterans Day?"

He laughs and it sounds good. "I'm fine, Erin. How are things with you? How's that little boy of yours?"

"Petey's great, as rambunctious as ever. Oh wait, I keep forgetting—he has announced he doesn't want to be called Petey anymore. He says he's too old for that." She laughs. "All of 6 years old and he's outgrown his nickname already."

Hawkeye sighs. "He's 6? Holy hell, time flies. It seems like just yesterday he was a baby."

Erin leans back in her chair with a sigh of her own. "Don't I know it." She's absently playing with the sheets of paper in front of her on the kitchen table. They're well-worn, those papers… dog-eared and yellowed, with some of the edges ripped. She's had them for a long time… since the day Hawkeye handed them to her and explained what they were. That was back in the late 1950s… one of the first times he came out to visit them in Mill Valley. Every now and then, she gets the papers out of her desk and reads them… always on Veterans Day, but other times, too, when she feels a sudden urge to be reminded… to see those names again.

_…Corporal Stanley T. Young__  
__Sergeant Robert M. Zelnick__  
__  
__To Erin Hunnicutt,__  
__I leave you a list of all the young men your daddy took care of while he was in Korea. Many of them have him to thank for being alive today. I want you to understand why he had to be away during those first years of your life. I hope I have the chance to give you this in person, but around here you never know.__  
_  
"Anyway," she says, snapping back to the present, "what's new out there in Maine? Is everything all right?"

"No complaints, Erin… no complaints. It's flu season, so I've got a steady stream of sick people keeping me busy."

"Oh Hawkeye, you really ought to retire, don't you think? You work too hard."

He snorts a little. "Not ready for retirement just yet, Erin. I'm still enjoying the work, the patients, the practice. Anyway, I don't know what I'd do with myself if I retired."

She has no doubt about that. She's not sure she ever met anyone who lived for his work like Hawkeye Pierce does.

There's a long pause then, and finally Hawkeye breaks the silence, his voice soft, "You know, you don't have to call me every year on Veterans Day…"

She cuts him off. "I don't do it out of a sense of duty, Hawkeye." But then she hesitates, because she's not entirely sure how to articulate why she's called him on this day and what she's feeling right now.

"You have the list in front of you, don't you?" he asks, his voice still gentle.

She looks down at it as her fingers dog-ear the corner of one of the sheets… folding it, unfolding it. "Yeah. I do." Shutting her eyes, she adds, her voice thick with emotion, "I miss him so much."

A brief pause, then, "Me too."

"I have a lot of these names memorized by now, you know? These men that he saved."

"Your father was a terrific doctor and an amazing man. Every single day that he was in Korea, he missed you desperately."

"I know," she says, nodding as if he can see her through the phone. "I know that, Hawkeye. I just… I'm not resentful about that. I don't think I ever was. I got my father back, and he was the greatest dad in the world. And those men… those soldiers over there… they needed him."

"They sure did."

"This list… it's a connection. It's my connection to him. It makes me feel so proud, but it also makes me really sad."

There's another silence for a moment or two, then Hawkeye says, "Go ahead and feel sad, Erin. I do, too. He's gone and we miss him, and it's all right to feel sad."

Again she nods. She doesn't trust her voice so she doesn't answer right away. He seems to sense that she needs a couple of minutes and he waits her out. Finally she shakes her head, takes a breath, and tells him, "I didn't call you to get us both all depressed and emotional like this, Hawkeye… honest."

He gives a laugh. "I know."

"I just wanted to say hi… and of course, thank you. For everything you've ever done, which is quite a lot."

"You're very welcome, sweetie. You're like a daughter to me, you know that."

"I wish I could get out there to visit you more often. It's been… well, it's been too long."

"We've got an entire country between us, Erin. I understand."

"You should see Petey. Pete, I mean. He's growing like a weed. You know what, after the holidays are over, I'll see if I can bring him out there for a long weekend… how does that sound? Brian probably wouldn't be able to get away from work, but Pete and I can make the trip out there…"

"Erin, that would be great. I'd love for you to come visit."

"We'll plan on it, then." But she has a sinking feeling that it won't happen, because she's often had the intention of going out to Maine to see Hawkeye and something always comes up.

"Your father would be enormously proud of you, Erin," Hawkeye says then. "Hell, you were his pride and joy from the moment you came into this world. I don't have to tell you that."

"Yeah." Tears are threatening now and she sniffles. This phone call has been emotional from the get-go, and it's starting to catch up with her. She can no longer read the words on the papers in front of her… tears have blurred her vision. "I better go. I'll call you again soon, OK?"

"OK."

"Thanks again. For the… you know, for this list. For this connection to my dad."

"You'll never lose him, Erin. He'll always be with you. You don't need pieces of paper for that."

Now the tears finally spill over and begin to run down her cheeks. "Love you, Hawkeye."

"I love you too, sweetie. Talk to you again soon. Bye."

"Goodbye," she says, her voice soft and unsteady. She hangs up the phone, lets out a breath, and gives herself permission to have a good, long cry. What the hell. It's a day for remembrance.


End file.
